Tag: coathangers

It’s the great debate: is analog, with its potential for diversity, superior to the convenient but rigid lockstep of digital technology? Billy Walshe has argued the former and, traditionally, I side with him. But I have found a group of corporate researchers who don’t: twenty-five percent of all women.

Is this sort of thing really necessary? Throughout the entire history of human evolution, the billions and perhaps trillions (depending on where your definition of human draws the line) of people born and died to get us here did not need any kind of test. But, then smart people figured out how to tell a woman’s pregnant, so the pregnancy test came out. It was a great chance for us modern folks to say, “Oh shit.” Just like in the movies! What a novelty.

Okay, so the pregnancy test came about and life improved, but as a device, it remained simple and still has not become so advanced that it is more telling than a late period. But it would appear that some “researchers” concluded that in America (persumably this is not a commercial directed at Comedy Central’s viewers in Mali), a country where 99% of all women read, 25% of them can’t read a pregnancy test – or reads it incorrectly.

No, you know what? I almost believe it. Let’s get real about this. From personal experience, I can tell you right now that there are actually adult women who don’t know what ovulation means and therefore have no idea what the point of a period is. “Wow that’s a lot of blood! I must’ve had a lot to eat this month.” I know some women who might piss on this thing before you even have sex.

But let’s be fair to Clearblue. The company wouldn’t stand behind a claim, commercial or otherwise, if there wasn’t some merit to it. [Editor’s note: at The Elf Wax Times, we blindly trust large corporations for your convenience] Someone probably did a very biased study, but I’m sure it was a study nonetheless. So I beg the question: what are these women doing? Are they delusional? Are they seeing shit that isn’t there? Are her eyes crossed from being beaten by drunk Larry who “don’t support no kinda pullin’ out” and it causes her to see a positive plus sign where there is actually a minus?

Are they just glancing at the strip to get an idea of what it might be and then throwing it straight into the trash before they’re certain? It seems like it should be more important than that. I think a pregnancy test deserves at least a double take, about as equally as when you’re about to pull into a busy street where they put Wal-Marts and Western Sizzlin’ steakhouses and all those other shitty chain stores.

“Well, you know doctor, I looked at it, I used my eyes, I waited fifteen minutes. I even listened to the litmus paper to try and hear whether or not the urine was absorbing through it in any telling way, but I just couldn’t tell what the damn thing said. The instructions on the paper were Greek to me. I sat there for hours, just waiting for it to come to me, but I honestly could not grasp the difference between the plus sign and the minus. And that’s why I need this abortion.”

Not believable? I agree. Who in the Lord Fuck are they talking to for these statistics? Were they standing outside of the Helen Keller School For The Blind when they conducted the poll?

If a woman genuinely can’t use a piss-on-a-stick pregnancy test then maybe she shouldn’t bring a child into the world anyway. Or if she’s really that stupid, maybe she needs a set of bowel tests, too, to know whether whatever just passed through their midsection is a child or dinner from this weekend. “Should I wipe my ass or call an ambulance?” Simplicity. “Yep, it was just shit.” Or, “Just as I suspected: a baby!” she’ll say to her husband. “And you said I should get out of bed!”

And don’t you know most of these women are fat, too. I’m talking about the dumb ones who can’t operate the piss-on-a-stick pregnancy test unless it’s beeping, displaying words, making announcements and congratulating them out loud. If they won’t look for a plus sign, they aren’t looking at the Nutrition Facts on the box of Hamburger Helper either. That’s why they’re fat and that’s why they need bowel tests. Am I pregnant? Have I always been this…sick?

So we don’t know, they don’t know if the baby inside them is coming or going. Maybe they just ate it. They look down at themselves and they can’t tell if they’re pregnant. They can’t even tell what sex they are. Eventually these morbidly obese piles of skin forget their gender because it’s been so long since they saw something besides tits above their knees, so even some really fat men have been found taking these digital pregnancy tests, pissing and then listening. Their diets have reportedly become so unhealthy that when they stop bleeding from their asses, they believe they’re missing a period and start to freak out. But they’re a placid people, sighing once per month in relief because they’re never pregnant.

Switching gears now…

And I’ll tell ya what else. They’re relieved, but not the most relieved. The person of highest relief would have to be chronic masturbator Bill O’Reilly. Well, to be fair, this guy actually physically spanks it just once a day but the relief he garners from it and his sense of accomplishment is unrivaled by any primate. That’s because for all those people that he fires each week of each month of each year, who for whatever reason does not meet his standard of devoutness in their pledges to limit freedom of expression, another packet of sperm is oozed into his scrotum via wormhole from a better, perhaps more heavenly dimension, as part of Mother Nature’s attempt to balance out the lack of decency in his soul. Except this egotistical fuck is so thick with evil, like the bile/liver-combination Hitler was probably throwing up as he committed suicide, that there is a shock-absorbing desktop so technologically-advanced that Clearblue had to come in and install this thing into the steel frame of the building under his desk in New York to prevent the already-reinforced foundations of Fat Fucking Government-Asshole-Sucking Media Mogul Headquarters from buckling under the sudden pressure of the resulting seismic wave of his orgasm.

In an interview with his spawn point, Mrs. O’Reilly – who is not the devil and really exists – the still-glowing mother revealed a sudden burst of pride felt and the inherent certainty she took on, as though it were knowledge she’d carried since her own birth, when she looked down at the little minus sign and knew she was pregnant with who would later become the biggest jackass of all mankind, her son, the laughing-stock of the logical universe, whose show is sponsored by the alleged stupidity of the women watching his program.